Star Wars: Dark Visage
by Antipode
Summary: A Jedi Knight, on the run after escaping from the new Empire's Inquisitors, finds himself fighting along side a band of street revolutionaries in the slums of Coruscant. I have no intention of continuing this story.
1. 00 :: Prologue

The galaxy was in chaos in the wake of the pivotal Battle of Geonosis.  
  
The rebelling Separatist factions, no longer concerned with  
keeping their alliance hidden from the Republic, began striking  
out at targets across the galaxy, first military, then civilian.  
The Republic sent its own army to retaliate, and this began the  
Clone Wars, thus named from the armies of clone soldiers  
fighting for the Republic. The fighting was fierce and intense  
for two long years. The Jedi Knights, the guardians of the  
Republic, protected the citizens of the galaxy as best they  
could, but even they could not stand. The Jedi's fiercest  
enemy, the Sith, had returned from the shadows. The Sith were  
thought to have become extinct millennia ago, and now they had  
emerged from scrutiny to again hunt the Jedi. Thousands of  
Republic soldiers and Jedi Knights died in the battles that  
followed, and the Separatists continued to manufacture their  
battle 'Droids -- mechanized killing machines programmed to take  
the place of living soldiers -- to combat the Republic at all  
turns. At one point the fighting grew so high near the Republic  
capital at Coruscant that his advisors warned Supreme Chancellor  
Palpatine to take cover in an undisclosed bunker, where he  
continued to command the troops. Hidden and secluded from all  
but the best Republic surveillance -- that only he himself had  
access to -- this is where Palpatine chose to make known the  
consummation of his own secret plot.  
  
He declared himself Emperor.  
  
Palpatine also announced the Jedi as enemies of the state, and  
severed all ties between the Jedi order and the new Empire. The  
political unrest growing against the Jedi -- which Palpatine  
himself had also engineered -- came full force against the  
Knights. They were shunned, discarded by the populace at large  
as mere mystics with strange, dangerous powers. As soon as the  
new servants of the Emperor had ignored the Jedi entirely,  
Palpatine sent his chief enforcer, Darth Vader, a Sith warrior,  
to seek out and execute the Jedi. The Knights who had survived  
the battles with the Separatists went into hiding, or were  
slaughtered by Vader's hand. With no Jedi Knights to stand  
against him, Palpatine would be in absolute power, with no  
threat of opposition. The Old Republic, with the Jedi as its  
guardians, was dead, and the Empire was born. 


	2. 01 :: Skies Under Coruscant

____  
--1-  
  
SKIES UNDER CORUSCANT  
  
--Imperial Communications Bunker CORUS-56  
  
Imperial Stormtrooper CD-A18 made his way to the end of the catwalk, turned to take in the ground below him, then spun on his heel to return to the opposite end. Guard duty was -- in a word -- tiring, but it beat serious work. His only job here was to patrol his one catwalk, make sure no unauthorized personnel entered the door below him or climbed the ladder around the corner, and if there was, to call Lieutenant Chiin in the control room.  
The trooper reached up a gloved hand to reposition the rifle slung at his shoulder, loaded, but with the safety on. This was his first assignment since graduation at the academy on Carida, and he hadn't had any real combat training. He sighed beneath the pot-shaped bone-white helmet. There wasn't really a chance for it here, either. His "post" -- he always like to think of it as more important than it really was -- was a communications bunker that transmitted telemetry from a satellite in orbit of Coruscant, sending it to the Imperial Center in the heart of the city- planet's industrial sector.  
Trooper -18 reached the north end of the catwalk, and almost ran into Officer Matlyg, who appeared through the door from the catwalk to the interior of the bunker. The stormtrooper snapped into a sharp, textbook salute; the officer returned it. "Is there a problem, sir?" he asked, his voice slightly distorted by the helmet.  
"No, no problem, soldier," Matlyg replied curtly, producing a stick from his pocket. "Just out for a smoke."  
The soldier watched silently as the officer lit the cigarette and raised it to his lips. He took a long drag, then slowly exhaled the smoke into the night air. -18 had come to accept the habits of the officers above him; personally he didn't think one way or another about smoking. Then again, he had never really been offered one before.  
Matlyg looked over at the trooper. "Relax, soldier. There's no threat tonight. For now, the Emperor is in command."  
-18 visibly relaxed. "Yes, sir."  
The officer took another drag. "You can take off that blasted helmet, if you want. It can get oppressive at times."  
"Yes, sir," -18 replied, reaching around his rifle to pull off the constrictive headgear. "Thank you, sir." He was amazed how much his voice didn't echo.  
Another drag. Matlyg held the burning stick out to him; he accepted. "I remember when I had to wear the suit," the officer reflected as -18 raised the cig to his lips. "Some of the worst years of my life."  
The stormtrooper gagged. Matlyg accepted it back. "It can be hell, of course," the officer continued. "But the only way to get were I am is to start where you are."  
"Yes, sir," -18 choked out. How anyone could stand those things was beyond him.  
The Imperial officer finished off the stick and flicked the butt off the railing. "Very well. Continue with your patrol, soldier."  
Stormtrooper CD-A18 replaced his helmet, saluting to his officer before making his way back down the catwalk. What neither of the Imperials saw during the five-minute exchange was the dark-clothed shape making his way silently from the alley adjacent to the building to the door beneath the south end of the catwalk. Beside the door was an easily-removed air grate, and an entrance to the facility.  
An air grate, he scoffed at the absurdity of it. How... cinema.  
The agent replaced the grate behind him as he crouched into the ventilation shaft, making sure to make a minimum of noise as the metals rubbed against each other. He swiveled one-hundred-eighty degrees, stretching his senses as far as they would naturally go, beginning a crawl into the compound. This shaft should take me to the computer room, he thought. He had found it curious that the architects of the building would place a room of electronics in such a vulnerable position. It would be easy to destroy or damage their equipment with a grenade, if that were his mission. His assignment was to make it to the receiving antenna on the roof and disable it, without being seen of course.  
He continued down the air shaft until the tunnel widened out, connecting to the rest of the building through a large fan. It was on, spinning only fast enough to blow a slight breeze through the shaft. The agent sidestepped to the wall, listening for movement in the computer room. He heard a handful of technicians, tapping computer consoles distractedly. From the schematics he reviewed before the mission he knew that the fan was above a maintenance closet, adjacent to the computer room.  
It only took a moment of searching to locate the trap that would lead down into the storage room. He gripped the handle in a leather-gloved hand, slowly raising the hatch and swinging it open. There was no one in the room below; the door was closed and the lights were out. He dropped silently into a crouch, not bothering to replace the trap door. He approached the door, placing a hand on its surface and closing his eyes. There were only three occupants: two were at computer consoles, turned away from the maintenance room, and the other was -- wait... getting up and heading out of the room. The agent waited until the third man had fully exited, then gripped the latch on the door and turned it. It's good these cheap facilities have manual doors, he thought to himself as the door swung open. Automatics make too much noise. The room was lit only by computer panels and desk lamps, allowing for plenty of darkness at the room's edges. As soon as there was a space large enough to fit through he exited the closet. Keeping to the wall and staying in the shadows, he crouch-walked past the technicians toward the door and slipped silently into the hallway.  
The lights in the hallway were turned down so only the faintest glow came from them. The clipping footsteps of the technician were still audible as the man disappeared behind a corner to the right. The agent watched him go, running over the building schematic in his mind. The telemetry receiver was in the primary control room, which should be around the corner -- the opposite direction from where the techie went, he noted -- and up the stairs, first door on the left. He took off quietly, keeping to the left wall, even though the lighting kept the relative shadows at a minimum. The technician couldn't have planned on going far. No telling when he'll come back.  
The agent crossed to the right side of the hallway, pressing his back to the wall and looking around the corner. He could still see the techie as he pushed open a restroom door and went in. He smiled. He should be busy for a while. Time to move. He pushed off the wall, going slightly faster now as he tiptoed up the stairs and approached the control room. Recon showed at least three men inside at all times, and the server I need to access is on the far wall. He passed the control room door and went to the next one down; it may be easier to enter through a different route. The man slowly opened the door as he reached it, slipping into the room and closing the door behind him.  
The room inside was obviously someone's office, most likely the commander of the base. It was incredibly utilitarian: a desk on the right wall, beside that a cabinet of some kind, with a chair behind and two more on the opposite side. A large window was on the wall across from the door, facing out into the Coruscant night. A small metal bookshelf was on the wall opposite the desk, the wall that separated the office from the control room. The agent quickly slid the shelf aside, picking it up slightly to prevent much noise. He knelt at the base of the wall, placing his hand on it and sliding it across the surface, feeling. It took only a moment to find what he was searching for. He kept his right hand on the wall while he reached to his belt with his left, unclipping a small, cylindrical object: a Jedi lightsaber. He pressed a button on its face, with a snapping hiss igniting the weapon and producing a blade of energy that emerged from the hilt to extend a meter long, bathing the room in a faint blue light. He skillfully placed the tip of the weapon against the wall, pressing it against the wall ever so slightly, enough to burn through the thin material only an inch thick. The agent moved the saber laterally, carving a thin line on the wall a half-meter from the floor. In only three more cuts a rectangular section of the wall had been removed. The man pressed the button again, retracting the blade and returning the room to darkness. He dropped to his knees, placing his hands against the square cut and coaxing it down, onto the floor.  
The agent froze for a moment, waiting and listening for voices. He could hear a handful of people in the control room, but none indicated anyone had heard him. He turned back to the matter at hand. Now that the wall had been removed, the rear maintenance panel of the computer bank in the control room was visible. The man's skilled hands quickly released the catches on the panel, swinging it open to expose the innards of the computer: a rat's nest of wires, circuit boards, and silicon chips. His hand slid into the maze, moving around for a moment before locating the hardware he was searching for. He pulled it to the forefront, reaching to his belt with his free hand to produce a board of similar design, but with some critical modifications. He unplugged the original board from its spot in the wiring, placing it on the floor of the computer and replacing it with the modified version. He looked over his work, decided it satisfactory, then closed up the computer and got to his feet. He propped the severed section of wall back upright, then replaced the bookshelf over it. With any luck that would keep them from discovering the intrusion too quickly.  
The agent reached a gloved hand to his ear, tapping the small device tucked inside to activate a communications link back to headquarters. "Done," was all he said before tapping it again to close the link. It was a word large enough to be noticed by his handler, who was listening impatiently, waiting for the codeword to be uttered, but small enough not to be noticed as anything but static to anyone benignly listening in. The agent smiled as he quietly passed back into the hallway. Tracer's probably staring at her chronometer, wondering why I'm... he glanced at a chrono on his own wrist, four seconds late. This radio silence thing has got her feeling helpless. He turned left in the hall, continuing to a stairway that would lead to the roof. Usually Tracer would be able to give him instant satellite recon from HQ, telling him where to go and what to look for as he worked on his objectives. Infiltrating a communications facility, however, meant that strict comlink silence had to be observed. All she could do was sit in the darkened computer room back at base, staring at her watch and listening intently, wondering if every crackle she heard on the headset was him giving the codeword.  
The briefing Tracer had given him before he left included evidence that suggested there would be two stormtroopers patrolling the halls inside. Now he saw one of them, "marching" lazily down the center of the corridor, white body armor shining like a beacon in the dim light. He was a testament to the security upheld in the facility: swaggering gait, rifle held lax in his right hand, helmet removed and hanging from his belt. If the helmet had been on, its enhanced vision modes may have given the guard a probability of seeing the agent as he crept through the halls; without, he didn't have a chance. The infiltrator pressed against the wall, waiting patiently for the man to pass, then pushed off and resumed his objective.  
It took him a little less than seven minutes to locate the stairway, close the door gently behind him, and slip to the roof. He opened the door at the top of the stairs just wide enough to look out onto the roof, immediately seeing the massive receiving antenna, pointed toward the heavens. He exited the stairwell, crouching and still alert, but faster now that his goal was in reach. His primary objective was to disable the tower; he had three choices. One: disable it by the manual switch; result: they just switch it back on again. Two: pry off the panel and rip out some wires. Or three: blast the panel with a pistol.  
No brainer. The agent reached a left hand into his jacket and pulled out the AmroTech DK-54 semi-automatic pistol with silencer from the inside holster, took aim at the base of the antenna and fired. The shot bore right through the metal plating to fry wires and circuits all the way down the interior of the device. He put the gun back into his jacket, looking around as he always did to make sure he was still alone. He smiled as the smell of burning electronics rose through the smoking hole. Mission accomplished. Even now the technicians in the control room below would be staring at their boards in disbelief, wondering why their antenna just died. In a few minutes they would tell their superiors who, in a few minutes after that, would send a group of repairmen to check on it. They would find the damage, conclude that it would take however-long to repair, and get to work. When the repairs were finished, they would find that it still wouldn't work, due to the damage in the computer bank below. At the very least they would have to allocate repair resources, or request more personnel.  
The agent reached up to tap his ear, issue the "Done" keyword once more, and tap his ear again. Now all that was left in the operation was extraction, which came easy enough. There were several access ladders leading from the roof to the external catwalks eight feet below. The agent tore a chunk of burning, half-molten metal from the smoking control panel, then crossed to the south-west corner of the roof, directly above a catwalk that wrapped around the corner, beside a familiar air grate. The stormtrooper from before was still there, making his mundane rounds. The agent crouched, readied his arm back to toss the chunk of metal onto the north end of the catwalk; meant as a distraction, so he could descend the ladder on the opposite end, down to the ground. One... two... thr- Just as he was about to throw, the door to the adjacent control room opened and a black-uniformed officer stepped onto the catwalk. From the agent's vantage point he could hear the exchange:  
"Trooper," Officer Matlyg said, "there's been a problem with the antenna. I need you to escort the repair team to see what's going on. We may have been sabotaged."  
Trooper -18's face went as white as his helmet. "Sir, I didn't see any-"  
"No one's blaming anyone, Trooper... yet. Just escort the team."  
"Yes, sir," the stormtrooper replied, giving his rifle a quick look- over, then following the officer inside the bunker. What neither of the Imperials saw during the quick exchange, however, was the silent shadow descending the ladder to the ground, and disappearing into the night.  
  
---==((.!:*:!.))==---  
  
--Rebellion HQ  
  
It was a full thirty-five minutes of traversing the dark Coruscant streets before agent Aidon Krinstaf arrived back at Rebellion Headquarters. It was really nothing more than an abandoned warehouse in the slums, but the ragtag band of street revolutionaries had transformed it into something most militia operations would envy. They had entire portions of the buildings divided up for reconnaissance equipment, computer databanks, an armory of sorts, even a makeshift garage to hold "appropriated" vehicles. The windows to the outside had been painted over to prevent the glow from the high-power lamps and computer screens from attracting attention from the outside.  
The members of the Rebellion revolutionaries were vast and varied, from the highest diplomat to the lowest street thug, but they all had something in common: a deep hatred for the new Galactic Empire. Most were non-humans expelled from Emperor Palpatine's new pro-human regime, some were humans who had witnessed the tyranny of its dictatorial rule. But nearly all, like Aidon, were being constantly hunted by the Empire, for what they called "treason." He considered himself in the same starship with the beings around him, even though his story was somewhat different.  
Aidon had once been a member of the Jedi Order, the sanctioned protectors of the Republic, the governing force in the galaxy for thousands of generations. He had trained at the Jedi Temple in the heart of Coruscant, under Jedi Master Le'onte Sjin. For twenty years he had studied the Jedi ways, the way of the Force, how to master it, to bend it to his will, to use it for good. His training was nearly complete when the Separatists began attacking targets near Coruscant, and Palpatine took complete power of the Republic, re-naming it the Empire, reshaping it to his own image. The Jedi were the first targets on his galactic hit list. They became the hunted, both by the Empire and by independent bounty hunters claiming the prize the Empire would give them. He hadn't really given it any thought until the night the Inquisitors came, murdering Master Sjin in a vicious lightsaber battle. The Inquisitors were special hunters trained by the Emperor himself to hunt and kill the Jedi, for ample payment, of course. Some regarded them as deadlier than the Sith, for they had no honor or code to live up to. Their only goal in life was to kill, and they would have killed him as well if he hadn't escaped. Aidon retreated into the slums, vowing never to use the Force, and to keep the use of a Jedi's weapon, a lightsaber, to an absolute minimum. The agent stepped into the warehouse, nodding to the guard as he passed. Security was important here, for if the Empire ever found them, all they worked so hard for would be lost. He had been fighting with the Rebellion for two years now. He understood their ways, their procedures, and all were meant to provide the highest level of protection available.  
"Aidon!" He turned a handful of degrees to the right to face the young woman running up to him, her distinctive jumpsuit shimmering slightly in the bright lights of the warehouse. Aidon could sense the apprehension coming from Tracer as she approached, stopping just a few feet from him. She smiled pleasantly to him in greeting. "Mission accomplished?"  
Aidon smiled out of the corner of his mouth. "They won't be receiving anything anytime soon."  
"Good, good." Tracer nodded sagely as they started crossing the compound, the implant on her forehead giving a slight glint of light. "And the chip? It went in all right?"  
"Like a charm."  
She nodded again. "Good." Tracer's technical expertise was unmatched by anyone in the Rebellion; probably by anyone in this sector of the planet. She took great pride in her work, but didn't have enough of an ego to let that pride show outwardly. She did her best to be humble, to conduct herself in a manner that hinted at her more noble origins. Aidon saw that many forced to live out here would adopt a gruff, surly attitude that warned others to stay away. Not Tracer; she was content with staying unnoticed, helping to advance the cause from behind the scenes.  
Aidon and Tracer entered the alcove on the far side of the warehouse, separated as it was by a sheet that hung on a wire stretched across the entrance. This was what the members of the Rebellion called the War Room, though it was little more than what had probably been an office, no larger than five meters on a side. The lights on the ceiling had ceased to function long ago, and now several desk lamps at the perimeter of the room did the job. In the center of the darkened room was a table that took up almost the entire area of the room, covered by numerous charts, graphs, and reports. Most of the data in those had been collected by Aidon himself; even more had been written by Tracer.  
As the two entered the man seated at the table fought to stand; Aidon motioned for him to sit back down. He gratefully complied. Shado Tla'keef was the "leader" of the Rebellion, though he preferred the term "organizational developer." He used to be a government contractor, before the government changed. He was a Twi'lek, and like all non-humans was quickly expelled from his job by the Imperial Order, under threat of death. He joined the Rebellion first as a field agent, but had lost his right leg in a brutal squad firefight that ended his career. He was fitted with a prosthetic by anti-Imperial "dissidents," but it still severely hindered his mobility. Now he brought his ability of analyzing charts and maps to the Cause, preparing the ops that he wasn't able to execute himself anymore. He was gruff and reserved, knowing what he saw and when to speak his peace. Shado never liked to display weakness, but with friends as old as Aidon and Tracer, he was willing to make an exception. Aidon had joined the Cause shortly after Shado's accident, and he saw in the young human all the things he used to be.  
The older man set his cane back on the floor where it was, looking up to face the black-clothed agent. "How did the op go?"  
"Picture perfect," he replied, circling the table to the side opposite the man. "Not a stitch."  
"Good. Now we can order in the strike. They'll have no idea we're coming."  
Aidon nodded. The purpose of his mission was to prevent the Imperials from scanning a sector of Coruscant where a Rebellion strike was to take place. In addition to the damage done by Aidon at the antenna, Tracer's chip would continue the confusion by scrambling or deleting parts of any signal run through its transistors. Imperial procedure was to check the computers for any possible software problem before opening them up, and even when they found the violated computer, Tracer's chip looked so much like the original it was doubtful even their engineers could detect the modifications.  
"What's the objectives?" Aidon asked, looking down at the map before Shado. It appeared to be maglev supply depot.  
"Supply acquisition," he answered, which meant they were going to steal their stuff. "Two teams... I think here... and here. Three men, four for the acquisition team."  
"Armament?"  
"Two pistols and a hacker." Two men carrying blaster pistols and one with the equipment necessary for electronically breaking and entering.  
Aidon looked up. "No rifle backup?"  
Shado frowned. "Thought about it. Maybe for the secondary team, they'll be holding a perimeter. Might be wise to have one there." He reached for a stylus and scribbled something down on a creased piece of paper. "Any thoughts on who?"  
"Donvon's the best rifleman we've got," Aidon replied, "but he's still recovering from last week. Won't be ready for field duty for a couple days."  
"That's what I thought. I'm also thinking of Kree. He's come close to second best. Plus he's got electronics training, just in case."  
Aidon raised an eyebrow. "I don't know. He's pretty green yet."  
Shado looked up from the charts. "Tracer, any thoughts on electronics personnel? Preferably ones that can handle a gun if need be."  
"How about Solazar?" she suggested. "I've seen her on the shooting range, not too shabby."  
"Field trained?"  
"This would be her first."  
Shado made a face. "Though judging by your recommendation, you think she would be ready?"  
"Ready enough, if we spent the night training," she replied.  
Shado nodded. "Go ahead." Tracer left back through the alcove. He turned to Aidon. "Well, listen, I've got everything under control here, the op's pretty much finished. You can go ahead and head home if you want."  
There was a pause. "Sure, I'll do that." He stood.  
"Hey, Aidon. Great job tonight."  
"Thanks." He exited back through the alcove, going straight for the door to the warehouse.  
  
---==((.!:*:!.))==---  
  
--Sector Ae3, Maglev Supply Depot  
  
"And you're sure this intel is secure?"  
"Positive, Commander. We got it ID'd this morning."  
"And when will the attack take place?"  
"Sorry, sir, we couldn't tell. Anywhere from a week to... tomorrow."  
"Hmm. Well, thank you, Lieutenant. Bransil out."  
Imperial Commander Nik Bransil switched off the comlink on his datapad and slid it back into the pocket of his uniform. So, the intelligence was correct after all. He admitted he had his doubts concerning the operation. How dare the insurrectionists plan an attack on the Emperor's own ground! His squad had been stationed in a garrison close enough to the supply depot to be able to see it through macro-binoculars, and he was just visiting the place while it was closing to inspect their dedication to procedure. The personnel of the station had been briefed as to their position, that there was a hostile rebel faction planning a raid of the depot to be executed within the week. His squad was there to prevent any such action from taking place. If any suspicious people did come around, his troopers had orders to engage and capture.  
Commander Bransil smiled. No one was getting in here. Not on his watch.  
  
---==((.!:*:!.))==---  
  
--Rebellion HQ  
  
The disk hovered slowly in place, the gravitation field around it fluctuating slightly to make it waver in the air, bobbing left, then right, then left again. These actions were designed to make it harder to hit, which did nothing to alter the course of the crimson lance of light headed for it. The disk's remote sensors detected the energy beam on a collision course, and it accessed its programming for the appropriate course of action. It took only a moment for it to "decide" to slide slightly to the right and back, taking it out of the path of the deadly blast. The blaster shot sailed past, the air around it crackling with intensity.  
The second shot, the one the device did not detect, however, didn't miss. It connected with the target, frying through the outer shell and into the core to hit the power center, igniting it and ripping the disk apart from the inside. There was a small pop, accompanied by a shower of sparks as the disk fell from the air to clatter on the ground. Lanii Solazar lowered the blaster pistol to her side, looking over the damage she had caused and smiling.  
"Scratch another," Tracer commented as she approached.  
Lanii relinquished the gun to her teacher. "They're gettin' a little harder."  
"You're still doing great," she answered. "Think you'll be ready for field work now?"  
The girl shrugged. "Probably."  
"Good, why don't you get some rest. Mission briefing's at oh-two- hundred."  
  
Shado Tla'keef decided on having both the strike and Aidon's mission on the same night, hoping to catch the Empire off guard and, hopefully, off balance. There were two teams, one assigned to infiltrate the main cargo area and extract the supplies, the other to provide backup and fire cover. The mission briefing was at 0200, and by 0221 both of the teams had loaded their gear and departed for the depot. Under normal circumstances transportation might have been considered, but headquarters was only a half- mile west from the maglev station, so it wasn't worth the risk of being seen. Team One headed north-west, to circle around the depot before entering through the main maglev entry bay. Team Two would go through the main doors, securing the supervisor's office that overlooked the bay. Estimated time to the target was fifty-four minutes. Both of the teams had orders for silence as they traversed the Coruscant alleys, staying away from the main streets where the bright neon signs from the commercial districts may have given away their positions. All were dressed in dark, non-reflective clothing to aid their blending into the shadows.  
The squad leader for Team One was a man named Bernur Vlactis, a human from the high-gravity world Cherbus III. He was short and stocky, with keen eyes and powerful arms. He glanced around the alleys warily as they passed, watching for any movement. Bernur had joined the Rebellion nearly ten months ago, and had already moved up the ranks to be a normally- considered position for strike team leader. His blaster pistol was in its holster on his hip, his blaster carbine in a sling around his shoulder. He had been able to convince Shado to let him bring along his rifle in addition to the pistol defined by the mission parameters. All three of the beings behind him were armed with a pistol, but he was able to use his rifle with greater skill.  
The team crossed another alley, and Bernur brought up the datapad from inside his field jacket, illuminating it just long enough just to see their positions. He reached up and tapped his earpiece. "Twenty-three minutes to target," he said and closed the link. His hand reflexively wrapped around the strap to his carbine. It was locked and loaded, and he had a feeling he wouldn't finish this mission without getting to use it. Of course, he hoped that for every mission.  
"Copy," came a reply from Bernur's earpiece, from the Team Two leader. They would be only three-quarters of a mile south of their position, moving at approximately the same speed toward the depot. He had met the team leader, Arein Tallon, once. He was a decent enough fellow, but Bernur found him to be a tad too soft. Made up for it with a steady aim, though.  
He could see the maglev depot now, the darkened building the same as the others around it, but noticeable by the single-railed track that ran into it. Bernur held up a hand, ordering his team to stop. He reached up to his ear. "Position." Now they were to wait until Team Two had circled the building and secured the loading bay. There should be no one there this late at night -- no, he corrected himself, early in the morning -- so there should be little resistance.  
  
---==((.!:*:!.))==---  
  
Arein Tallon slid the blaster rifle from his shoulder as his team approached the depot, switching off the safety and reflexively checking the ammo gauge. His three teammates took the silent cue to draw the blaster pistols from their holsters. He crouched down into a defensive stance as he hustled toward the south facade of the building, the side that faced the street. He used that term loosely: this part of the district was so worn down that there was little interest in maintenance. Most of the buildings had already been neglected into disrepair. He wouldn't have to worry about being seen when they crossed the open area of asphalt between the alleys and the depot. There was, however, the problem of a street light that illuminated the area there. Arein looked around the corner, took aim with his rifle, and fired. The suppressed light beam made almost no sound as it exited the chamber, making barely a flash as it pierced the lamp and deactivated it in a shower of sparks.  
He reached up to his ear, "Position," then gave the signal for them to advance single file across the darkened pavement. In a moment they were before the main double doors to the building, which was armed with an electronic security lock. Arein stepped aside to let their hacker through, a young woman named Lanii Solazar. She quickly holstered her pistol, producing a lockpick case from her jacket. She flipped it open, extracted a tool, and set to work. Arein was amazed at her skill as she pried the cover off the lock and began prodding the mess of wires inside. She was about half his age, but seemed to know more about lockpicking than he ever hoped to. In forty-three seconds Lanii's work paid off, and with a muted spark the lock was deactivated. She closed the lockpick case and slid it back into her jacket, then re-armed her pistol and joined the team as they opened the doors and breached the building.  
The main doors for the loading dock were straight ahead; instead, Arein led them around the corner to the left, to a staircase at the end of the corridor. At the top was the door to the supervisor's office, their next objective. Here Solazar's skills weren't necessary: Arein tried the knob, then brought the butt of his rifle down on the door forcibly enough to snap the doorknob from its socket. The door was now easily opened and they entered. The office inside wasn't extraordinary, but there was a large picture window on the right wall that looked out over the loading dock. This would allow them to see Team One execute their objective. He reached up to his ear.  
  
---==((.!:*:!.))==---  
  
Bernur had barely heard the word "Position" from his headset before he ordered his team forward, toward the south end of the maglev depot. The maglev track entered through the loading dock entrance on the south wall, which was blocked by a force field that prohibited unwelcome visitors. Beside it was an access panel that allowed technicians to lower the field if an emergency arose; it would also allow Kree, their team's hacker, to break in and deactivate it themselves. The man set to work as soon as they neared the building, taking out his hacker's kit and plugging into the panel. He furiously tapped the buttons on his datapad, the blue glow from the screen casting a eerie glow on his face. In just a few moments he looked back up at Bernur. "That should do it."  
The team leader looked at the entrance to the building. He reached out slowly toward the opening, knowing that if Kree was incorrect and the force field was still up, the electric shock would kill him, or at least incapacitate him. His hand inched closer and closer to the threshold, then with a thrust he pushed it in. Nothing happened to his hand so he assumed the field had been successfully lowered. The team entered the building.  
Bernur looked up to his right, seeing the window to the supervisor's office high above the ground, and four dark shapes barely noticeable inside. The maglev track at the center of the room was sunken about two meters, and there was a cargo crane to the left. At the far wall of the depression was a ladder; they used it to climb out of the pit and onto the platform around it. On the south end of the dock were the main double doors that led to a perimeter hallway, and directly to the left of those were the double doors to the stock room. Bernur led the group to the stock room, forcing their way inside and examining the stacks of crates around the room.  
  
---==((.!:*:!.))==---  
  
--Imperial Security Barracks  
  
"Sir, we have activity in the maglev depot!"  
Commander Nik Bransil looked up from his desk to the private who had poked his head into his office to deliver the news. "Excellent. Get the men ready."  
"Yes, sir," the young man replied and disappeared. Bransil got to his feet, reaching to pick up the blaster rifle resting on his desk, armed and ready. He had ordered a base-wide yellow alert since the news of the planned attack two hours ago, but he had no idea the rebels would try something so quickly. He had ordered an orbital infrared sensor sweep of the area around the depot, but the satellite receiver in the area was reported as "out of order," some kind of equipment malfunction. He sneered. If Imperial maintenance was any indication of the productivity of the new order, the Emperor's reign wouldn't last. Bransil entered the main area of the base, where six able fighting men stood at attention. Luckily, the Empire was defined by its people, and these people were shining examples of Imperial greatness. Each of them was dressed in black half- plate urban combat armor -- a stripped-down version of standard stormtrooper armor that enabled better movement. All were armed with a BlasTech E-11 blaster rifle (Imperial standard issue) and backup BlasTech DL-18 blaster pistol in a side holster. Bransil himself was similarly armed. He stood before his unmoving troops, looking them over one last time before the confrontation. "The enemy has been detected," he said simply. "Prepare to engage. If possible, set your weapons to stun. The Empire will have their traitors."  
Each man checked his weapon and moved out into the night. Bransil led the charge, making no attempt at subtlety as he led his men down the middle of the street toward the maglev depot.  
  
---==((.!:*:!.))==---  
  
Bernur lifted another of the heavy crates into his arms, leaning back slightly to keep his balance before heading back out the door to the loading area. He could hardly see where he was going around the box; it rose at least a half-dozen centimeters above his head. He stopped in the middle of the room, carefully lowering the box back down to the ground. He rolled his shoulders back to work out the sores. They had found a hover- sled in the storage room, and Lanii was trying to get it operational. If it worked, they wouldn't have to leave all the good stuff. Bernur looked back to the door of the adjacent room. He could see the three others, working amidst the stacks of crates and boxes. They're so young, he thought to himself. How could they get mixed up in something like this?  
His gaze swept around, over the main double doors of the room just as they swung open, seemingly by themselves. He realized that wasn't the case, however, as he saw the three black-armored figures on the other side.  
  
The two guards in front breached the door, as the one directly behind held his rifle at the ready. Bransil watched on from the rear, rifle ready but more anxious to see how his men handled a combat situation. There was a lone man visible inside the building, facing the door with a defiant gaze. As he saw the doors opening he reached down futilely for a pistol at his side, but the Imperial soldiers already had their weapons trained on him. Each of the three men squeezed off a single shot. The first bolt hit the short man in the chest, which threw him backwards and flipped him over the packing crate behind him. The second shot punctured the man's skull before he hit the ground. The third would have hit if the man was still standing where he had been; it merely struck the corner of the crate.  
Bransil ordered his men into the room in a sweeping pattern, Fraizer to the left, Tokil to the right, and Drek staying at the doorway. The doors to the storage room to the right were open, and figures could be seen inside. "Cover!" Bransil ordered into his headset, still in the relative safety of the corridor. Fraizer hustled to the crate the dead man was splayed out upon, and Drek and Tokil retreated back into the doorway. Imperial combat training was now being followed by the book, as the young soldiers strafed in and out of cover to release shots into the storeroom. Bransil did nothing but watch, amazed at his men's actions, at how flawless their execution was.  
"Advance!" he ordered them, and again their movement were perfect. Fraizer left the safety of the container to hustle to the right side of the storeroom doorway, as Drek left the hall to take up his partner's vacated spot. Now the rebels were flanked and surrounded, rifles firing at them from three different directions. He heard frantic orders being shouted from inside the storeroom, and the figures desperately scrambling for better cover. One was hit by a blaster bolt and went down. Bransil looked up to the window to the supervisor's office. Flashes from blasters were visible in the darkness, and they only lasted a moment. Then he saw the other half of his team, successful in their securing of the room.  
"Set for stun. Move in," he told them. There couldn't be too many of them remaining now. He would stun and capture whoever was left, and query the Imperial Council over their next course of action. Perhaps he would get a promotion out of this, he thought. A perfect end to a flawless mission. 


	3. 02 :: Golden Rebound

____  
--2-  
  
GOLDEN REBOUND  
  
--Rebellion HQ  
  
"What happened?" Aidon asked as he entered the War Room.  
"'Golden Fall' was a failure," Shado replied, looking up from the table. "Some-how the Imperials got intel on the op and intercepted the teams. All are either killed or missing. We know the Imps captured at least four of them. The bodies weren't in the warehouse."  
"Any ideas on where they're being held?" Aidon wasn't one to beat around the bush.  
Tracer spoke up. "Detention facility four clicks from here. Not the highest security, but they're being kept in the bottommost level, sublevel three. Only way in is through the lobby."  
"Great," he replied sarcastically. "We're planning extraction?"  
Shado held up his hands and shook his head. "Not this time. Too dangerous. Even if we got someone in, there doesn't seem to be any way to get them out, to say nothing of the agents we're trying to bring home."  
Aidon placed his hands on the table. "So we're doing nothing?"  
"What I'm saying is there's nothing we can do. Our best bet is to wait until prisoner transfer. Maybe we can ambush them then."  
"When will that be?"  
"A week, maybe two," Tracer replied.  
He shook his head. "That's too long. I've seen how the Imps operate. By tomorrow they could get some of them to crack, spill the location of the base. We have to get them out of there before then."  
Shado mulled it over for a moment, staring down at the table. "Aidon, there's been a leak." The agent had figured that, from what he was being told. "I don't know how far it goes, but I know I can trust you two. We can't risk sending in a hostage team, so you'd be going alone."  
Aidon shook his head. "No, no. I can't do hostages. I get in, I get out. I can't handle rescues. Too often they... don't work out."  
The elder man looked him in the eye. "It's either you alone or we try for an ambush in two weeks. You're right, they may spill the beans. I don't like that any more than you do. But if we try something, we have to try it now. We obviously didn't catch them off guard like I had hoped, but if we keep this between the three of us, maybe we can make this one a success."  
Aidon thought about it. He didn't like it at all. The odds of him infiltrating an enemy facility were always slim, but if he had four other bodies to worry about, four other targets... "Tracer?"  
He heard her swallow. "If we can find a way out of the holding area without worrying about guards, there may be a way. A risky way, but still... If you want to do this, we can try."  
Do, or do not... he remembered the old Jedi lesson from so long ago. There is no try. There was pass, and there was fail. Nothing in between. "We have to get them out of there," he finally said. "The risk is worth it."  
  
---==((.!:*:!.))==---  
  
--Imperial Communications Bunker CORUS-56  
  
The engineering tool snaked its way down the fire-charred mass of electronics equipment, passing around the molten chunks of metal and silicon until it finally scraped against something solid. The engineer wiggled the tool slightly to make sure it could go no further, then he started reeling the device back in. "Looks like one-point-three, maybe -point-four meters," he said aloud. "The blast went pretty deep."  
Officer Matlyg's eyes narrowed. "So this was no accident."  
The engineer shook his head. "No way, sir. This was-" His voice abruptly cut off as it lowered an octave. "This was definitely sabotage, sir."  
Matlyg took a deep breath. "I will contact Imperial Command immediately. They must know of this." He turned his attention back to the man. "How long to repair it?"  
The engineer surveyed the damage to the antenna. "If all my men work on it... Three, four days, tops."  
"Begin work immediately," the officer commanded. "We need that antenna repaired."  
"Right away, sir."  
Matlyg spun on his heel and headed for the stairway. A saboteur! On his facility! The Emperor would not take it lightly. Matlyg heard the stories told of Imperial officers who messed up a job. There was no doubt in his mind that he was probably not going to keep his rank; perhaps not even his life, if the stories were true. There had to be someone he could drag down with him. Maybe that trooper, who was guarding the south catwalk. Yes, Matlyg could get him to face the firing squad right along with him, proverbial or not. But there was no hurry to report this. In the meantime, there were some things the officer could do to find out who this infiltrator was. He wasn't going to take this lying down, either.  
  
---==((.!:*:!.))==---  
  
--Desital Street Detention Facility  
  
The black van slid slowly to a stop in the alleyway, headlights off, modified engine running strangely silent to avoid detection. In the cockpit, the driver snapped the vehicle into park, turning the key to shut off the engine. The nearly unnoticeable hum around them ceased. She glanced at the man in the passenger seat, who was busying himself with checking his pistol's ammo gauge and clipping the lightsaber back onto his belt. Without a word he opened the door and slipped into the night, taking a dozen steps from the van before turning back. She was grabbing a comlink pack from behind the driver's seat, affixing a headset and switching it on.  
"Comm check," Tracer said, her voice coming through the comlink in Aidon's ear.  
"Loud and clear," the agent answered, not having to tap his ear like the last mission because the link this time was forced open. She would be able to hear everything around him.  
Aidon and Tracer had spent the hours since morning devising their EAE (entry and execution) for the facility, how he would get in to find the prisoners. Aidon had committed the floor plan to memory, and Tracer also had the satellite uplink active to let her see the building from an orbital viewpoint, which included infrared and night vision. She would be watching his movements from the van, while also keeping an eye on activity inside. Aidon made his way to the street, then started for the building.  
"All right, Aidon. Nothing's changed," Tracer's voice sounded in his ear. "One guy to the left of the door, two guys in the room beyond. The door to the next room's on the far side of the lobby, past the two guys and a metal detector. Do your magic."  
Aidon heard the tone in her voice and smiled. She always assumed he had something up his sleeve, and she was usually right. He scaled the steps to the facility's door, his mind racing through his options as he gripped the handle. Gunshot: he's probably behind magsealed glass. Sneak past: no, he'll hear the door open. Straight threatening: yeah, right...  
The officer looked up from his booth as the door opened. Upon seeing Aidon and his all-black getup, his eyes widened somewhat, which gave way to a more skeptical gaze. "I'm sorry, sir. We're not accepting visitors now."  
He approached the booth with confidence. "I just need some information," he said, his voice strong, low, and commanding.  
"Or course, sir, but..."  
Aidon phased the voice out of his head as his he closed his eyes, tapping into the energy of the Force. Beneath his lids, his eyes rolled up into his sockets, his body slightly quaking as the power trickled into him. He almost thought he heard the man saying, "Sir, are you all right?" Through the power of the Force he could see his body, hunched against the wall, the man inside the booth and -- faintly -- the two men in the next room. He focused on the man before him, scanning him with his mind, finding the nerve he needed to pinch. Aidon's eyes flashed open and he glared at the man, releasing the energy he had been building inside himself. A look of surprise crossed the man's face as he abruptly straightened, before collapsing on the floor of the booth.  
The agent circled the divider into the booth, kneeling beside the man and feeling for a pulse. There was one, but very faint. He was content with that, and began searching his body for his control key. Hopefully he had enough security clearance to bypass most of the security locks in the building. "What did you do to him?" Tracer asked.  
"Used the Force to knock him out," Aidon answered, pocketing the key and getting to his feet. "That's one of the skills I didn't learn at the Jedi Temple."  
"You're taking kind of a chance with that, aren't you? Using your powers and everything? Security cam, north wall."  
Aidon exited the booth and began scanning the walls of the room for the holocam. "Maybe, but that's the only way I could think of to get past him."  
"All right, but don't get used to it," she answered, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "We don't need our star player killed by Imps because they tracked his Force signature."  
"Gotcha," he answered, spotting the camera on the north wall. He pulled out the pistol from his jacket, lined up the target, and fired. The silenced shot melted through the metal case, frying the electronics thoroughly. Aidon turned to the door of the next room. "Any cams in there?"  
"Hold on, let me check..." There was a pause, and he could hear the tapping of computer keys through the speaker. "Yeah, just one. Oscillating, about seven-second intervals."  
"Okay," he answered, approaching the door. How was he going to do this one? "Seven seconds..." he mused, a plan already formulating in his head. "Tracer, could I bother you for a diversion?"  
"What did you have in mind?" she replied. Aidon could hear the smile on her lips.  
"How about a minor electrical failure?" he suggested, a smile forming on his face as well.  
"I'm on it, give me a sec." He heard the computer keys again. "Just to warn you," she added, sounding preoccupied. "If this is a half-way decent facility, they'll have a backup generator. It should kick in after five seconds, during which time the lights, the metal detector, and the camera will all be dead. You have that long to pass through without making a sound."  
"Understood."  
"All right, you've got darkness... now."  
For a second nothing happened, but immediately after that moment of doubt the lights flickered and died. Aidon yanked on the door handle, passing the threshold while the sounds of confusion from one of the guards came to his ears. "What's going on?"  
"Don't worry about it," the other one replied, a hint of uneasiness in his voice as well. "Must be a power failure. The backup generator should turn on..." -- the lights flickered back to life -- "There ya go." The guards looked around. There was no sign that anyone else had entering the room: both doors were closed, and neither of them had heard a thing.  
Aidon had already retreated around the corner to the turbolift that led to the detention facility's sublevels. He reached up to insert the guard's control key and tap the button, and a quiet hum sounded from the other side of the door. This once again drew the attention of the guards in their booths, and one of them started for the elevator. The agent had no choice but to hustle to the opposite side of the hall, crouching down into the shadows. The elevator door and the door to the guard's booth opened at about the same time. The prison guard walked out into the hall, immediately noticing the open lift door and going over to investigate. He poked his head in to look around the lift car, then returned to his booth, muttering something about "lousy defective machinery." The door to the booth closed, and Aidon had just enough time to run down the hall and slip into the elevator car before the doors closed. He jabbed the button marked "S3," then took a moment to catch his breath as the car slid down the shaft.  
It wasn't long before Tracer's voice again issued over his earpiece. "Aidon, what was that all about?"  
Aidon swallowed. "Had a bit of a problem getting in the lift."  
Tracer's voice stayed annoyingly calm. "Do we have a potential stealth leak?"  
He shook his head even though she couldn't see it. "I don't think so. They're writing it off as equipment failure."  
There was a pause. "Watch it, Aidon. We're treading dangerously close to the abort-mission line."  
"I know, I know," he answered. An electronic marker above the doors counted the floors: S1... S2... S3. The doors opened, and Aidon slipped silently out of the elevator. The third sublevel of the detention facility was by far drearier than the lobby, and decidedly more Imperial in design. The room adjacent to the turbolift was roughly circular, with a console pedestal in the center, and a stairway leading up to a hexagonal hallway lined with holding cells. There were strips of lights at each side of that hallway, casting a weak, red glow. The only sounds were the hum of the walls and the clanking of a man's boots down the metal hallway. Aidon looked, seeing a guard slowly patrolling the detention hallway, rifle held in a loose grip across his chest. He was already far enough down the hall as to not hear the turbolift door opening.  
Aidon circled around the control console to the right side of the hallway, peeking around the corner with his back to the wall. The hallway was about twenty-five meters long, and the man was fifteen meters from the end. If he was going to check every cell before circling around, he would have his back turned for only a fraction of a minute more. The agent took off in a low crouch, going just fast enough to keep his heel-toe mode of movement from making a sound against the metal grating of the floor. Slowly he closed the distance between him and the guard, gradually slowing as he crept nearer and nearer. Aidon mentally counted down the distance: Five meters... four meters... three meters... He carefully reached into his jacket now, sliding the pistol there out of its holster. Two meters... He took this moment to strike, bringing the butt of the gun down on the man's skull. There was the barest sound of surprise from the guard as he straightened before crumpling to the floor with a clang.  
"All right," Aidon said, replacing his gun. "Where are they?"  
"Well done," Tracer lauded. "Um... Cell Thirteen. Go get 'em."  
He began searching for the correct room. "Now, tell me again: how are we getting out of here undetected?"  
"Yeah, um, I've been thinking about that. Actually, I'm still working out the particulars. Give me another minute."  
Aidon sighed. Despite all their planning the two of them still couldn't figure out an extraction safer than storming back out the lobby. There might have been a chance if he was going out alone, but he would have four liberated prisoners to deal with as well. He found the door marked with a large "13" and picked the side controls with one of Tracer's electronic lockpicks. The door recessed into the wall slid aside with a slight hiss, and he could sense the apprehension coming from the room's occupants, fearing that their captors had returned. The light switch for the room was beside the door controls; Aidon tapped those as well before entering.  
"Who are you?" one of them asked, squinting against the glare of the glow panels.  
"I'm Aidon Krinstaf, I'm here to rescue you," he replied, looking around to the beings in the room. There was the man who addressed him, and older man with streaks of gray hair at his temples. Sitting up slowly on the cot on the corner was a young woman, probably two or three years younger than he. On the floor beside her was a young man in his late twenties, looking every bit the ragamuffin teenager that made up the majority of the Rebellion's fighting force. "Three..." he said, mostly to himself.  
"What? Who are you?" the man repeated.  
Aidon ignored him, reaching up to press the receiver into his ear. "Tracer, didn't Shado say there were four?"  
"Hold on... Blast it, these damned sensors can't go that far into the facility. How many are there in the cell?"  
"Just three."  
"We know the Imps got four of our people: Kragen, Solazar, Kree, and Lagenly. There weren't any transfer orders given here either."  
He looked around the room again. "I've got Kragen, Solazar, and Kree, but Lagenly's not here." Aidon knelt down by Kragen, looking directly into the old man's eyes. "Where's Lagenly? Where did the Imps move him to?"  
"Now hold on just a damn minute," the grizzled man grumbled, lifting himself to his feet. "Who in the galaxy are you?"  
"I'm with the Rebellion," Aidon told him patiently, and the man's face visibly softened. "I've got a van waiting outside to take you back to HQ. Now can someone tell me where Lagenly is?"  
Lanii Solazar got to her feet. "Lag's gone. They took him away earlier today... about eight hours ago."  
"Tracer, you got that?"  
"Loud and clear," she said, her voice heavy.  
"Do we have a leak?"  
"Doesn't matter if we do. There's nothing we can do about it from here. I'll call HQ for orders, but you know what Shado's gonna say, anyway."  
"Right," he replied, turning to face the captives. "Who's the best with a blaster?"  
Kragen spoke up. "Those two are techies. I guess I've had the most practice."  
Aidon pulled the borrowed pistol from a hip holster and held it out to the man, butt first. "Go ahead and bring up the rear."  
Kragen took the gun and nodded, checking the ammo gauge like a pro. It took only a minute for Aidon to issue movement orders, then they were all out in the hallway. "Okay, Tracer, now would be the time for your escape plan."  
"Right, um... Okay, Aidon, I got something, but I need your help. The lift you came down in might have a way out, but like I said, my satellite won't go that far down. I'm working only off blueprints, but I think you should be able to blast open the bottom of the lift tube and into an old subrail tunnel underneath."  
"How do we get rid of the lift car?"  
"You'll have to trigger the door manually, and I can keep the doors open from here. But you'll need to work fast. If the Imps decide to come down to 'check things out,' you, ah, could be crushed."  
"Splendid."  
"Just let me know when you're in position."  
Aidon stepped over to the turbolift shaft and pressed the button; the doors slid open with a ding that sounded much too loud in the silence. He stepped inside, positioning his finger right above the button that would take the car to the upper level. "Doors locked open?"  
"Got it. Do your thing."  
He pressed the button and slid out of the car just as it lurched and began its ascent. As soon as there was a space between the floor and the bottom of the car wide enough to fit through, Aidon jumped into the shaft and dropped the two meters to the ground. He pulled his lightsaber from his belt, igniting it with a snap-hiss and casting a blue glow into the shaft. He inverted it from a standard fighting stance above his head, thrusting it down through the floor of the shaft in a spray of sparks. Beneath the tube was probably a meter or two of solid rock between him and the subrail shaft, which he needed to cut through before the car came back down again. It was slow going, but Aidon was soon able to move the saber across the metal plating in a circular motion. In just under one minute he had completed the circle; a single kick to the plating made the incision complete, and the plating fell through the floor.  
Standing on the small part of the floor that was left Aidon helped the three ex-captives down the lift tube to freedom, warning them that the drop might be farther than it seemed. First Kragen, then Solazar, and lastly Kree went down the hole, each shouting an "all-clear" once they were away from the hole, allowing the next person to pass down. As Kree dropped down the shaft, Aidon looked around, wondering if he should even bother with trying to cover up the damage. As he decided against it, Tracer's voice came through: "Aidon, are they down?"  
"Yeah, now it's just me."  
"All right, listen. The comm probably won't work down in the tunnel, so I'm giving you directions now. Once down, the path should lead east to west. Go west. About two hundred meters down there should be a small access tunnel to the right; it should lead..." -- a pause as she checked the maintenance blueprint again -- "...yeah, to a ladder that will take you to the surface. When you come back up I'll let you know where the van's parked."  
"Gotcha. Thanks, Tracer."  
"Be careful, Aidon."  
"See you on the other side," he said and dropped down the hole.  
It was pitch dark. Aidon quickly remedied that by holding his lightsaber aloft and igniting the azure blade. The shadows retreated, bathing everything in an electric blue light. Looking around, he spotted the three who had gone before him, the glow reflecting unreal off their faces. "Let's go," he called to them, his voice echoing in the tunnel. He led the way in the directions Tracer had given him, the lightsaber lighting the way down the subrail tunnel.  
  
---==((.!:*:!.))==---  
  
--Skyway Twelve Diner, Downtown Coruscant  
  
Aidon Krinstaf sat in a booth in the Café Skyway, idly sipping a cup of coffee and staring out into traffic through the window that dominated the east wall of the establishment. He liked to come here after missions. It was quiet, in an area close enough to the "respectable" areas of the city- planet, but not close enough to risk being seen by Imperial soldiers. Here he could be alone with his thoughts, looking out at the people passing by on the street, most of them not even aware there was a galactic civil war being fought. It was a throwback to a simpler time in his life as well, were he would have helped keep the peace in a civilized Republic, instead of committing espionage against a tyrannical Empire.  
Operation "Golden Rebound" had been executed without a hitch. After leading the three escapees through the subrail tunnel they had rendezvoused with Tracer in the extraction vehicle and gotten back to HQ. He gave his debrief to Tracer and Shado -- nothing spectacular had happened, so it was short. Shado did have some gripes with the man Aidon had psychically knocked out, but that couldn't have been helped. Afterwards, Aidon had been released, had headed back home to store his weapons and change his clothes, then down to the diner as a gentle rain began to fall.  
He took another sip of coffee, watching as a taxi slid to a stop on the other side of the street to let on passengers, then drove away into the mist. His gaze swept around the room, taking in the couples sitting in a few of the other booths, the waitresses scurrying about, taking and delivering orders. The was a constant hum in the air from the conversations being held around him, mingled with the droning of the machinery from some back room somewhere.  
Aidon turned back to his table, noticing a jack-in port for portable computers. He fished a datapad from his pocket and plugged it in, using the diner's InfoNet link to access a newswire. The Imperial Information Network was the chief supplier of galactic news to the populace, and of course they always put their special spin on things so that the Empire was never wrong. It was a tactic that had been perfected by countless dictatorships before it, but none had ever attempted the controlling of information on this great a scale. The Empire did, unfortunately, pull it off impeccably. The headline for the day was about a dignitary from Alzoc III, who had been assassinated by terrorists while visiting Coruscant as part of a diplomatic envoy. Imperial soldiers had captured those responsible, the report said, and that the "heinous crime would not go unpunished." Aidon grimaced. The details of that same event had been circulating around the Resistance as well, and they said that the Imps had murdered the emissary, not a rogue faction. The Talz from Alzoc III had been grateful to know the true story, which had increased their willingness to assist the revolution.  
Aidon scrolled down on the datapad, scanning the headings of some of the other events over the past day. The mission at the supply depot had made the news, which of course had been touted as "a decisive Imperial victory over the dissenting factions." They even had a photo and some quotes from the garrison commander who had led the attack. Handsome fella, for an Imp.  
He set the datapad down on the table and rubbed his head, again reaching for his cup. There were days when the job really got to him; this was one of them. Always looking over his shoulders for the authorities, operating under the cover of darkness -- covert ops was definitely not for the weak of heart. Aidon looked out the window again, watching two Ishi Tib exit a store on the opposite side of the street and move to hail a hovercab. They were laughing -- from what he could make out from that distance -- enjoying each other's company on the rainy night on Coruscant.  
He set the coffee cup back down on the table, half-wishing Tracer was with him. As usual, she had to stay at HQ and run some late-night diagnostics on the Rebellion's ridiculously large computer network. There were only five people on the force who could understand what to do, and there was only one who knew which wiring connections needed the extra attention, on account of that she helped build it. Tracer lovingly referred to the networks by silly little pet names, and watched over it like a mother. Aidon admired her for her dedication to duty and perseverance of mind, but wished in his heart that she would take it easy for once.  
The waitress returned with an offer to refill his cup; he accepted. As she reached over with the pitcher Aidon stole a glance at her name tag: "Tiliya" it read in small, non-descript letters. "I used to know a Tiliya," he said, his mind somewhat detached. But that was a long time ago, he didn't say. Before the dark times...  
"Hm?" she answered, not really listening.  
"Never mind," he shook his head and returned to his datapad. She gave a practiced waitress's smile and turned to go.  
That's when Aidon felt the small ripple in the base of his skull. Nothing more than a tickle, enough to get his attention, but he knew what it meant. He sensed a presence, an individual with ties to the energy of the Force. It was strong and close, and now all his suspicions were confirmed.  
"Can I help you, sir?" Tiliya asked him, fear and surprise in her voice. Aidon looked up, then noticed that his hand had thrust out and grabbed hold of her arm.  
He quickly released her, his head swimming with the connotations of his realization. "You're... You're Tiliya."  
"Sir, are you all right? I can call an ambulance if-"  
Several people were looking in their direction, and Aidon pondered how to pursue this without making a scene. "Um... Is there someplace we can talk? Privately."  
"Sir, you're going to have to give me a reason," she replied, still wondering what the crazy man was talking about.  
"I... I know who you are," he stammered, resisting the urge to open himself to the Force and speak directly into her mind. "I'm one like you."  
Tiliya faltered, suddenly realizing what he was talking about. She started to turn, but went back to face him. "I would, but I'm working now," she said, then leaned down next to him, whispering intensely almost into his face. "I've left that behind me. For your own sake, you should, too." She got to her feet, spun on her heel and disappeared into the kitchen.  
Aidon watched her go, conscious of the many people who had witnessed the exchange. One by one they turned back to their meals, writing them up as two lovers in a spat, or a simple misunderstanding. Aidon himself was in shock. Finally, after all these years! But she didn't even give him a chance to explain, to present his case. How could she be like this, waiting tables in a two-bit restaurant! There was so much she knew, from being on the inside; so much she could help the resistance with!  
He stared down at the table, the datapad and his coffee going ignored. Well, there was nothing he could do. If she didn't want to have anything to do with the Rebellion or some has-been Jedi Apprentice, there wasn't anything he could do to change her mind. Aidon got to his feet, reaching into his pocket to pay for his beverage. He also threw a little something extra on the table as a tip. Maybe it would do something to convince her the galaxy wasn't all bad. He was about to leave, but stopped and looked at the pile of credits on the table. This would be the part in a holo-film where the shady protagonist would scribble some instructions on a napkin or the back of a business card, directions on what the reluctant heroine should do should she change her mind. Then the next day she would show up, join the cause, and fight the good fight.  
Aidon shook the thoughts from his mind as he turned and headed for the door. Some things weren't quite that simple. This was something he'd have to tackle alone. All alone.  
  
---==((.!:*:!.))==---  
  
--Desital Street Detention Facility  
  
"And you're sure this is the man who attacked you?"  
"Yeah, I'm sure!" the guard snapped back. "I don't know what that guy hit me with, but my memory's still fine."  
Kravyen put the photo back into the pocket of his suit. "I see. You are not to divulge the events of this night to anyone but me. Understand?"  
"Sure, whatever. Just catch the punk, all right?"  
The older man sneered. "I intend to do just that," he muttered as he spun on his heel and headed farther into the facility. Word of the prison escape had been quickly reported to Imperial Command, and Kravyen and his partner had been dispatched to the scene to investigate. He already knew what it was, and who it was -- Command wouldn't have sent him if it weren't. He just had to prove it, and bring the two of them closer together. Coruscant was a big place, to material standards. But when one had certain tools at his disposal, you could very easily find the proverbial needle in a haystack.  
Dolar was on the lower level, checking out the floor where the break- out took place. According to the guards no one had come up out of the elevator, so there had to be some way that they all escaped from there. The lift doors opened and Kravyen stepped out, immediately spotting Dolar and another guard at the end of the hallway. She was helping the man off the floor into a sitting position. He strode purposefully over to them, requesting a status report from his partner.  
"He suffered a minor concussion," she replied. "Someone whapped him in the back of the head something fierce."  
His eyes narrowed. "Any signs of a struggle?"  
Dolar shook her head. "Nope."  
"That's his MO all right," he growled and looked around. How could he always be one step ahead of them? "How did they escape?"  
She stood and shrugged. "Don' know. There aren't any signs of him anywhere on the level."  
"He had to have gotten out somehow..." Kravyen mused, glancing around. There weren't too many places he could have gone. "Could they have gone to sublevel two?"  
"They said he didn't come out onto the ground floor, so it's possible."  
Kravyen headed for the elevator, Dolar one step behind him. He pressed the call button for the lift and the doors opened immediately. The two stepped inside. The man's mind raced for options as the car began its journey up one level. How could he have escaped with three prisoners of war from a sublevel? There couldn't have been nearly enough time to dig a tunnel, and none of the prisoners on sublevel two had seen anything, as with the ones on sublevel one. The only thing around them underground was...  
A flash of realization crossed Kravyen's face. "The Lotlins Line..."  
Dolar got it, too. "Aw, gawd! The subrail tunnels? He could be anywhere!"  
"Not quite," he replied, jabbing the button to stop the lift and take it back down to the basement. Next he pulled a comlink out of his pocket and keyed it to the detention facility's frequency. "Can you force the lift doors to stay open?"  
It was a moment before a flustered officer answered. "Uh, yes. Yes, sir. Right away, sir."  
The lift stopped and Kravyen ordered the car back up as he exited. Dolar had just enough time to step out herself before it started up. As the lift car lurched and ascended, the man switched on the beam strapped to his wrist, shining it down into the shaft. There was a roughly-cut hole at the bottom, and the darkness of the subrail tunnel was behind it. Without hesitation Kravyen jumped in, landing in a crouch at the bottom.  
Dolar waited patiently for him, and it wasn't long before he called up to her. "Footprint signature's a match. Call the Council. Tell them that we have confirmation of Krinstaf in this sector." 


	4. 03 :: Holocron HighRise

____  
--3-  
  
HOLOCRON HIGH-RISE  
  
--Rebellion HQ  
  
"Tracer... help me."  
The woman's eyes snapped opened so fast they clicked, and she searched around frantically for the voice she had heard. It took Tracer a moment for her to adjust to the dim light and realize she was hunched over a computer terminal. The screen above her head was on, displaying a message that the diagnostics scan she had been running was complete. She acknowledged it as she sat up in the desk chair, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and yawning. Then she heard the voice again: "Tracer, help me..."  
She recognized the voice now; it was Aidon! He sounded weary, in pain, crying out for help. It took her weary mind a moment to realize that he was communicating with her through the Force, "speaking" directly into her mind. He had left HQ at least two hours ago, after the hostage mission had been completed. If something happened to him on his way home...  
Tracer jumped to her feet and headed for the door. If he was calling her telepathically, he may be unable to move. She had to find him, and help him. She visited the base armory, grabbed a powerful disruptor shotgun from the rack on the wall, then went over to the garage and started up the engine on the black van. If she hurried maybe she could make it in time.  
  
---===((.!:*:!.))===---  
  
--Klanstrom Apartments, Room 214  
  
Aidon came back to his room about two hours after midnight, his feet heavy and his head throbbing from the events of the day. He closed and locked the door, wasting no time in getting to bed. As he extinguished the room lights and let the darkness surround him, he found that getting to sleep wasn't nearly as easy as it should have been. He tossed and turned furiously, his mind filled with thoughts concerning the past day. The mission at the comm station, the hostage rescue, and the encounter with Tiliya at the diner all swam through his psyche in the form of jumbled images, seeming rational and making no sense in the same breath. He had never done two missions in the same day before, and it was taking its toll on his mind.  
The air in the room quickly grew hot and stuffy, a consequence of the apartment building having no working air conditioner. Aidon peeled off sheet after sheet until, unable to bear it any longer, threw himself out of bed and walked over to the window. He flung it open, letting in the cool night air. He braced his hands on each side of the window and stood there a moment, looking out into the city around him. There were only a few hundred cars out at that late hour, and they were making their ways from place to place, on the ground and in the sky.  
"Aw, blast it," Aidon groaned, his voice weak and cracking. There had to be something better he could do besides suffering in his room. He glanced at his bedside clock: 0347. More than likely Tracer would be home now. Aidon went over to the jacket he had draped unceremoniously over a chair when he had come home. Aidon picked up the leather jacket, heavy with the pistol still hidden inside. He didn't really know where he was going, but he had to take a walk, try to clear his head. He slid one arm into it, then the other, and then he was surrounded.  
How many there were, or how they got into his house Aidon didn't know, but he suddenly became aware of a number of presences in his bedroom. His first thought was to take defensive action but he hesitated, feeling something strange that set them apart from the guards and stormtroopers he was used to fighting. There was some darker power at work here, something that warped his feeling of them through the Force, twisting and distorting its impressions.  
If the marauders knew Aidon was aware of them they didn't show it. They hovered silently around him, watching him, studying him. Dangerous as it might have been, Aidon took a moment to think through a plan of attack. He didn't know how many there were, and he didn't dare open himself to the Force or turn his head to find out. He would need a weapon. His pistol was still in his jacket, but his lightsaber was across the room on the bedside table; a simple reach of the Force would summon it to his hand.  
The time came for action. With a thought Aidon's lightsaber leapt into his waiting fist. With a snap-hiss it ignited, casting a blue glow around his bedroom. His eyes immediately went wide as he noticed the figures around him. There were six of them, all dressed in black fatigues that looked loaded with weapons. The glow from the saber seemed to distort around them, a perversion of the physical light as much as their feeling through the Force. Black masks covered their faces, giving them the appearance of giant insects as they crawled over the walls.  
One of the black-suited men -- an officer, Aidon guessed, from a strange, badge-like marker on the side of his helmet -- leapt off the wall and landed before him. Aidon brought up his saber in a fighting stance, hoping he wouldn't be forced into combat in these tight quarters. That fear was challenged, however, as the man removed a cylindrical object from his belt and activated his own crimson-bladed lightsaber. There was only a moment of safety, then the red blade was brought around toward his right shoulder. Aidon brought his weapon up to block the strike, then spun it to deflect a follow-up attack at his left hip. Once the blades connected, his foe attacked again, now swinging his sword hard at Aidon's head. He was able to duck out of the way, backing up from his assailant. What he didn't see was that another of the marauders had energized his own weapon, and he now brought it down on him. Caught off balance from his backward movement, there was little he could do to dodge the move, and the blade came close to his left calf. The hair on his leg stood on end as the energy passed by.  
There's no way I can win this, Aidon thought as he looked around at the six men on his walls. I've got to get out of here. The first attacker was blocking the doorway to the living room, so there was no way out there. The only other portal to the outside was the open window on the other side of the room. Knowing that jumping out a second-story window -- dangerous as it was -- was his only chance of escape, Aidon decided to take it. He feinted to the left, causing the attacker to bring his blade up once more, then extinguished his blade and threw himself toward the bed on the right. As he had hoped the man was caught off guard, giving Aidon the time he needed to somersault across the bed, his heels catching on the edge of the mattress and launching him toward the window. Floating in mid-air Aidon saw another of the warriors stepping off the wall and brandishing his lightsaber, ready to cut off -- quite literally -- his escape. There was nothing he could do to alter his trajectory through the air, so he chose another means of defense. He gathered the Force to himself, releasing a blast of energy that knocked the man off balance and into the wall.  
Then Aidon was through the window, finding himself in another predicament. The alley floor was two stories below him, and he was falling fast. He now became aware of a biting pain in his lower left leg, and he realized that the man earlier had indeed sliced through his leg with the lightsaber. He was able to twist his body slightly in an attempt to break his fall, but in a moment it was all over. He was able to use the Force to soften his fall, but his body slammed into the ground. Aidon was somewhat grateful he didn't hear anything crack, but the pain was unbearable. His vision blurred, and his consciousness faded. With his last thought, he reached into the Force to broadcast a cry for help to the one he knew would be listening for him: "Tracer... help me..."  
The commander of the strike group watched Aidon's body as it sailed out the bedroom window to drop the six meters to the ground below. He walked over to the window to witness the impact, then he jumped down himself, accompanied by the soldier who had scored the hit with his saber. He landed easily in a crouch next to the motionless form, reaching down to place his palm three centimeters from Aidon's head. He closed his eyes, feeling for any glimmer at all. He found none. "He's gone," he shouted up to his troops. "Extraction now."  
The sound of screeching tires split through the still air as a black unmarked van skidded to a stop at the mouth of the alley. The driver's door opened and a woman stepped out, cranial implant gleaming in the moonlight. It took Tracer only a moment to assess the situation before leveling a disruptor shotgun at the man standing beside Aidon. "Beat it, blackie, or you're eatin' plasma!" she shouted, cocking the weapon with her left hand.  
The commander didn't know what to make of this at first, but Tracer was quick to make it quite clear. She fired the weapon, the projectile connecting with the man behind him. The man screamed and fell to the ground, clutching his bleeding shoulder. The commander quickly ordered all his men to evacuate immediately; the man hit with the rifle vanished in a cloud of smoke.  
Tracer ran over to Aidon, dropping on her knees beside him and looking into his still face. "Aidon! Aidon, can you hear me?"  
He heard her voice, faintly, and know that his cry had been answered. With his remaining spiritual strength he fought for a handhold, climbing slowly back over the precipice and into conscious thought. His eyes slowly opened, and the first thing he saw was Tracer smiling down at him, a tear of joy rolling down her cheek.  
  
---===((.!:*:!.))===---  
  
--Rebellion HQ  
  
Aidon awoke some time later on a couch in the HQ lounge. His head was still pounding, and his vision swam slightly, but he was still grateful to be alive. As his eyes adjusted, he heard a voice to his left. "Hey. How you feeling?"  
He pushed himself onto his left elbow, smiling. "Like I got ran over by a bus."  
"You fell two stories," Tracer replied, coming to sit on a chair beside the couch. "The force is about the same."  
Aidon looked around and idly wondered what time it was. His gaze fell upon his left leg, and the bandage wrapped around his calf. He vaguely remembered Tracer taking him to the base infirmary, but between his excruciating pain and the subsequent painkillers he wasn't all that sure. "How's your leg?" she asked.  
"Better than earlier," he answered. "It only hurts a little when I move my foot." He demonstrated by wiggling his toes and wincing. "What time is it?"  
"Almost noon. You slept most of the morning." There was a period of awkward silence before Tracer leaned forward in her chair. "Aidon," she whispered, "what where those things that attacked you?"  
His head felt light as he remembered the attack, and his head dropped back onto the pillow. "I don't know exactly," he groaned. "But they were... trained and highly skilled in the Force."  
"Were they Sith?" Tracer asked, her eyes narrowing.  
Aidon shook his head. "I doubt it. As far as we know there can only be two Sith at a time, and I fought six this morning."  
"Then what were they?"  
"There's only one other option I can think of. They were Dark Jedi... and I've been discovered." A beat of silence. "But they didn't fight like any Dark Jedi I've seen before. They were climbing on the walls, and even Dark Jedi don't fight six at a time."  
The door opened and Shado entered the room. "Hey, Aidon, Tracer told me what happened. How's the leg?"  
"Fine, I think," he answered.  
He pulled over a chair and sat down. "If you're up to it, I need to find out what happened and put it on record." He pulled out a datapad. "You mind just answering some questions?"  
"A debrief?" he chuckled, working to sit up. "I guess so. Shoot."  
"All right... Any ideas about who these guys were?"  
"Tracer and I were just talking about that. We know they were some kind of Dark-"  
"Ninjas," Tracer spoke quietly.  
Aidon looked at her quizzically. "What?"  
"They had to be ninjas. You know, like in the movies. You said they were crawling on the walls, and the one I blasted smoked away."  
"'Smoked away?'" Shado echoed.  
"Yeah, you know. The ninja smoke... funeral burial thing."  
Aidon shook his head. "Tracer..."  
She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms. "I don't hear you giving any good ideas."  
Shado tapped his stylus against the datapad impatiently. "People? Could we?"  
"Sorry."  
"Aidon, how did these guys find you?"  
He shook his head. "No idea. I don't even know how they got into my apartment. They were right on top of me before I sensed them. If I had been sleeping at the time I probably wouldn't be talking with you now."  
"Does this pose a threat to the Resistance?"  
"They were probably only after me. But, if the Empire knows where I am, it won't be long until they find HQ, and then you could all be in danger."  
Shado nodded, mulling it over. "Hmm. Well, I'd put the base on yellow alert, but it may tip off the mole I told you about yesterday. The best I can do is increase the guard cycles. In any case I have to take you off active duty, from your injury. If you want to stay here, go ahead. I have to get back to the office." He stood from his chair and left the lounge, leaving Tracer and Aidon alone.  
She watched him go, then heard Aidon from behind her. "Ninjas?"  
She laughed. "I know, it's stupid. Just trying to lighten the moment, that's all." She turned back to Aidon. She could see the look on his face, as if he was deep in thought, his mind racing. "What is it?"  
"You know," he began, his voice quiet, "I think I remember who would know what those things were."  
"Who?"  
"A Jedi Master, Baross-Oflann Daga. He used to study the history of the Sith and the Dark Side of the Force -- a very dangerous things for any Jedi to study, but he had the patience and the will not to fall. He wrote dozens of volumes on the subjects. If this is some kind of ancient warrior style the Empire has unearthed, he would know something about it."  
"A Jedi Master on Coruscant?" Tracer asked skeptically. "How do you know where he is?"  
Aidon realized he wasn't making himself clear. "No, Master Daga died about, oh... two thousand years ago. The only reason I know him is they used him for a gatekeeper personality in one of the holocrons at the Jedi Temple. They kept that one for private use, though, from all the things he knew about the Dark Side."  
"What's a holocron?"  
Aidon was struck that he had never spoken to her about this. "A holocron is a small crystalline object, usually a cube or a pyramid, that holds all the knowledge of a Jedi Master. Once its programmed, the personality manifests itself through a hologram of the Master, one that you can talk to and it will give you information about a given subject. It can only be used by those with the Force, so not everyone can access the information inside them."  
"And where is Master Daga's holocron?"  
"Back in the Jedi Temple, last I heard. Since the occupation, however, the Empire might have destroyed all the Jedi artifacts left there. I'm not sure, but I think they turned the Temple into a hotel."  
"Blasphemers."  
"Right," he laughed. As he thought about it, a plan started to formulate in his mind, a plan that he couldn't ignore as easily as five minutes ago. "Tracer, I've got to get up there. If Master Daga's holocron is still in the tower, I've got to get it back."  
Tracer sighed. "I'd try to talk you out of it, but I know you. Once you get a crazy idea... But what about your leg? Are you able to handle something like this?"  
Aidon swung his legs over the side of the couch. "It's feeling a lot better, actually. Must be that Jedi resilience." He winked at her.  
"Aidon, you know I'd help you if I can, but you're not on actives -- I am. Shado's been getting really worked up with this mole we've got running around the base, and if they somehow got wind that I was helping you on a mission you shouldn't even be going on in the first place..."  
"I get it, Tracer, I get it. I'm not asking for your help, just your sympathy. I know the Jedi Temple like the back of my hand; I just hope they haven't changed it that much."  
Tracer got to her feet. "Well, whatever you do, be careful. And good luck."  
She turned to leave, but Aidon called out to her. "Actually, you could do one thing that I can't. Can you clear a vehicle release for me? I'll be taking the bike."  
  
---===((.!:*:!.))===---  
  
--Imperial Arms Hotel, Coruscant  
  
Aidon raced through the air-streets of Coruscant on one of the Rebellion's "appropriated" vehicles: an H-6 Skybird Swoop. Since his conversation with Tracer he had changed back into his street clothes -- this time without any weapons -- checked to make sure his leg was as well enough to travel as he thought it was, and headed off. When he was half a kilometer away from the towering structure now known as the Imperial Arms Hotel he eased the swoop into a dive to about 15 meters off the ground. He hovered around the massive one-kilometer-high building, found a suitable place to park, and lowered the bike to the ground. He removed the polarized wraparound shades and leather gloves he was wearing, then started walking slowly to the front door of the tower.  
As he walked he looked up at the immense tower, a flood of memories connected to the place coming back to him. He had spent twenty years of his life living and working here, always returning to it after missions with Master Sjin and regarding it as "home." A muted beeping from the datapad in his pocket broke Aidon from his reverie. He pulled it out while he walked and glanced at the screen. It was a message from Tracer; Aidon smiled as he opened it. It was encrypted for security, in a code Tracer had developed from any emergency communication between them. The only decoders were any their own private computers; she probably used it to keep the base's mole from finding the message.  
  
I said I wouldn't get involved, but I lied. This thing is important  
to you, and I wanted to help somehow. I pulled some blueprints. Most  
of the upper levels are closed off to the public, and from what you  
told me earlier they're probably where most of the more Jedi-oriented  
stuff is. More than likely your holocron's up there.  
  
Good luck, Aidon. May the Force be with you.  
--Tracer  
  
P.S. If anyone asks about you, your "buddy" Syd Kolmarr is in room  
118-31. I've included his bio in the attachment, just in case you  
need it : )  
  
Aidon shook his head amusedly. Tracer could always find a way to assist, even when she wasn't authorized to. He opened the attachment of the message and started to read the information of Syd Kolmarr, a man who had checked into the hotel last week on a business trip from Corellia. He was a shipyard supervisor by trade, hoping to offer some of his company's starfighter designs to the Empire. Aidon wasn't too thrilled about Tracer's choice in "accomplices," but she added a note that he wouldn't be in the hotel for the next three hours, so he couldn't be asked any questions that could get in the way.  
Aidon scaled the small flight of steps to the front door of the hotel and entered. The lobby was almost as magnificent as the exterior of the building. It was almost as wide and as tall as the base of the building; he wouldn't have been surprised if it occupied the entire ground floor. At least a hundred beings milled about, seeking each other out for conversation or other business. The floor was polished to a marble shine, and it beautifully reflected the plants and stone pillars placed periodically around the room. The front desk was to his right as Aidon came in, and the lobby was otherwise furnished with groups of chairs clustered around tables scattered throughout. He made a beeline through the crowd to the front desk. The receptionist was a female human, dressed in a drab gray dress that looked more like a military uniform. She smiled as he approached, hands reflexively resting on the computer console in front of her. "Welcome, sir. Will you be checking in?"  
Aidon folded his hands together on the desk, adopting an accent that could be estimated as Southern-Hemisphere Alderaanian. "Actually, I'm here to see a friend. Can you tell me if Syd Kolmarr is still here?"  
She tapped the keys and responded slowly, cautiously. "He is checked in, but I believe Mister Kolmarr is out at the moment."  
He chuckled. "That's all right; I can wait in his room. When do you suppose he'll be back?"  
He talked fast, and she was caught slightly off guard, as he had planned. "Uh, he left a message that he should be back in about two hours."  
"All right, I can amuse myself. Room 118-31, right? Thanks."  
He turned and left casually into the crowd, pleased that his performance did the trick. He headed for the stairs at the far end of the room, which led to the lift that went up into the tower. He entered along with five other people, who each hit their respective floor's button as the doors to the car closed and they ascended. He stayed near the back, noticing that one of the people had hit the button for the "top" floor that the lift could reach; he would get out then, and look for the stairs. His next objective would be to reach the top of the building, to the central spire where they held the artifacts. Aidon did his best to stay calm and casual as two of the occupants of the car began a conversation about some of the events that had graced the news services over the past few days; they were obviously pro-Empire from the somewhat lewd comments they made concerning the Resistance. If only they knew, he thought to himself. People would act differently if they knew the truth.  
At long last the car reached the top floor and Aidon and the one remaining passenger exited. It had been some time since they had passed the one-hundred-eighteenth floor -- where Aidon was supposed to be at the moment -- so he knew he had to move quickly. The passenger took the hall to the left; he limped as fast as he could in the opposite direction. A place this big must have a stairway somewhere, he thought to himself, noticing that they must have remodeled these levels of the building since the days of the Republic. The walls were papered, the floors were carpeted, and nothing looked familiar. He continued down the hall, past door after door of rooms; rooms that would have housed young Jedi only three years ago. As he went along he tried not to think about the day the Empire came to the Temple, about what they did to all the men, women, and children staying here, working and living in these halls.  
Aidon shook his head of the thoughts as he reached the stairwell, marked with a "NO ENTRY -- EMPLOYEES ONLY" sign and, naturally, locked. He looked around to make sure no one was watching -- except the hidden security cameras, nothing he could about those -- before producing a lockpick from his pocket and setting to work. In his skilled hands it took no more than eighty seconds to bypass the meager security; he swung the door open and closed it behind him.  
The stairway was lit only by the sunlight streaming in through a window above. Aidon took a moment to listen, but he heard nothing but a quiet hum coming from somewhere around him. He scaled the steps to the next level up, then the next after that, and the one above that. The Jedi Temple had over three hundred floors; he was close to the top, but he would have to walk a ways. He looked through the windows he passed, still amazed after all these years at the grandness of the structure that used to house the Jedi. It took several moments for his tactical thinking to kick back in and realize that there were no guards in the "closed off" areas of the tower. Without realizing it he slowed, listening again for movement. There was still nothing, no indication of anyone around him. Aidon continued on, through one last door that led him out of the stairwell.  
He could have gone up the stairway one last time to exit out onto the roof, but he was able to recall the layout of the Temple from many years before, and knew of an alternate route that would take him to the storeroom. He was in yet another hallway maze; he continued on, sure of the path to take. And then he heard it: the telltale kliking of boots as they marched across the T-intersection ahead. To Aidon's trained ear the wearer of those boots was also bearing an encumbrance that slowed his movement slightly and made his footfalls heavier, such as a suit of Imperial stormtrooper armor. He ducked through a doorway into an adjoining room, closing the door and staying hidden as the trooper went past the hallway. Despite himself, Aidon smiled. About time we get some guards around here. Here I thought Imp security was slacking off.  
He slipped back into the hallway again, now conscious of his own footsteps in the dim corridor. At the intersection he paused and pressed his back to the wall, peeking around the corner at where the stormtrooper had gone. He was now far ahead, and in the opposite direction from where Aidon was planning on going, anyway. He hustled down the hallway, taking the first right he could. He didn't hear any other soldiers as he went; he concluded that the Empire didn't consider this building that much of a security risk, to only put one guard on a level. The ornate double doors of the Temple Library beckoned to him from forty meters down the passage. Aidon took a moment to calm down, knowing how careless one can be when their objective is in sight. He kept his steady pace, up to the doors and triggering the silent mechanism. The portal slid aside; he entered and bid them to close again.  
Now Aidon was on the upper balcony of the Republic Archives of the Jedi Temple, the premier repository of the knowledge of the galaxy. That's how it used to be, anyway; now it was nothing more than a large empty room, the shelves that formerly held dozens of volumes of knowledge now bare and silent. Dusty rays of sunlight entered through the main window at the south end of the room, giving the room a greater archaic air. He scaled the steps down to the main level, where shelves and statues lined the walls. He walked silently down the center of room, marveling at what once was. He had spent so many hours in this room during his Jedi career, studying the ancient texts and the histories of the galaxy.  
Aidon sighed. As much as he would like to reminisce, there was no time for it now. He hurried along as fast as his leg would take him, to the center of the room and facing north. There was the lift that would take him up, past the roof of the tower and into the Temple Spire, the central and highest point in the Jedi Temple. He placed his hand over the locking mechanism, tapping into the Force to activate the device. The color on its face turned from red to green and the door slid open. Aidon wasted no time in entering the elevator and pressed the button to ascend. As the doors slid closed Aidon released a breath and relaxed. He honestly doubted that the Empire would sent troops to occupy the Central Spire; not even they were sacrilegious enough for that.  
  
Syd Kolmarr walked through the main doors of the Imperial Arms Hotel at that moment, suit neatly in place, briefcase in hand. The meeting with the Imperial representative concerning his starfighter plans went much shorter than expected. He wasn't sure, but he thought they were giving him the runaround, hoping he'd give up. Well, if that was the case, they had another thing coming. Administrator Kolmarr wasn't one to give up easily. He stopped at the front desk and asked for any messages that had arrived while he was out.  
"No, sir," the receptionist replied. "But a man did stop by looking for you. He said he'd wait in your room."  
"I wasn't meeting anyone here," Syd replied skeptically. "Did he leave his name?"  
"No, but he knew your room number. I assumed you knew him. He sounded Alderaanian."  
His first thought was corporate spies. "Sienar will do anything to steal my designs! Call the police!"  
  
The lift took Aidon up to the Holomap Room at the base of the spire. From there he went up two levels to the Temple Storerooms, where he began searching for his prize. In the old days it would have taken mere moments, but when the Empire sieged the tower three years ago they ransacked the storerooms, taking anything that even looked remotely of value, including most of the holocrons. Aidon's heart sank upon seeing the aftermath of the looting; crates and containers overturned, their contents spilled out all over the floor. He knelt down by a ravaged crate, fingers running through the discarded remains before returning them to their resting place of the last three years.  
Aidon got to his feet, looking disdainfully at the room around him. How anyone could show such wanton disrespect was appalling. If he was going to locate Master Daga's holocron, there was only one way he could do it. He closed his eyes, tapping into the Force and stretching his senses into the chamber. An object filled with the energy of the Force should shine like a beacon to a Jedi, and any holocrons left by the Empire would be easy to find. Aidon stretched his senses to ten meters around him, then 20, then 30. He frowned. He couldn't feel anything.  
He took a deep breath and pushed himself farther, sensing to 50 and 60 meters. Then he felt the faint glimmer seven floors above, in another storeroom. Aidon's eyes flashed open. That had to be it! He took off for the stairway, but his leg wouldn't have it, and his head was light from exertion. Aidon was forced to go slowly, up the spiraling staircase farther up into the Spire. Once in the upper levels of the storehouse, he searched for the holocron again, finding it stashed behind an overturned shelf that had collapsed -- or more likely, shoved -- against the wall. He pulled it aside, diving into the pile of rubble beneath. Hidden in that pile was the small, crystalline cube he was looking for, the Jedi holocron of Baross-Oflann Daga. Aidon picked it up, turning it over in his hands and checking it for any damage. It appeared to be well-preserved over the years. He slid it into his pocket, then went for the stairs as fast as he could.  
He left the Temple Spire through the main door this time, out onto the roof of the hotel. Aidon was heading for the door that would lead back into the public areas of the building when he heard a deafening high-pitch whine, growing nearer and building in intensity. He looked to see a black aerial transport descending on the roof, nose pointed straight toward him. It hovered just above the ground, and a man jumped out not twenty meters from him, his massive frame dressed in a black business suit. The man stood still for a moment, fists clenched, seeming to stare him down. Then he spoke, a deep, powerful voice that echoed around him. The words were slow and precise, as if the man had been practicing them for years.  
"Agent Aidon Krinstaf, I am Inquisitor Fifth Class Mikal Kravyen. By the power invested in me by the Administration of the Galactic Empire, I am here to bring you into custody."  
Aidon stood his ground, not daring to show his inward feelings. So, the Inquisitors had finally found him. He had always known this day would come, had spent late nights thinking it over, actually, but had never got around to thinking about what he would do once he had been discovered. His analytical mind kicked into high gear, sorting through options and plans, trying to find something that would get him out of the unpleasant situation he was in.  
"It's time to give it up, Krinstaf," Kravyen continued. "Your little spree has gone on long enough."  
What about Tracer? If the Empire had found him, was there a chance they knew where HQ was? Had they been concentrating on him this whole time, and had no idea there was an organized Resistance? He couldn't risk fighting Kravyen alone on the rooftop, even without his bum leg he hadn't practiced formal swordplay in ages, and Kravyen was no doubt highly skilled with a saber. Aidon sighed. There were only two options. One was to surrender, the other was to escape.  
Aidon spun on his heel, running at full speed to the roof's edge, gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg. Kravyen sensed the action a moment before it was taken, and he produced a pistol from his suit jacket to level at the fleeing agent. Aidon could hear the shots being fired, but did nothing to attempt a dodge. He was too focused on concentrating on the Force, to sense the environment around him and gather the power to himself. It was an old technique, one that he hadn't used in a long time, even longer ago that it was taught. But, as he felt himself being enveloped by the Force, he could feel the power surging through him, and knew that he had executed it perfectly. He opened his eyes now, and could see the bolts from Kravyen's blaster around him, first speeding past him, then slowing, then seeming to fly backward as he surpassed them. He continued running to the edge of the roof and dove over the barrier that surrounded it.  
  
Kravyen leveled his blaster at Krinstaf and fired shot after shot as he ran, trusting his impeccable aim at this critical moment. After all these years, to finally have Krinstaf in his sights. There was no way he could escape him now. None of his shots connected, however, and he was forced to concentrate more on the matter at hand. He took a small moment to aim at his target's skull, then continued firing. The bolt was sure, and the distance was quickly closed between the two.  
And then Krinstaf was gone. There seemed to be a glimmer of pseudo- motion, then his body increased in speed exponentially, outrunning his weapons fire and leaping over the edge of the roof.  
Kravyen was shocked, but could waste no more time. He pulled the comlink from his pocket and lowered the smoking pistol to his side. "Dolar! Krinstaf's falling from the roof, east side! Get the van, now!"  
Below on the ground, Dolar heard her partner's message, and judging from his harsh tone he was pretty steamed that Krinstaf had escaped. She peeled out of the parking lot to the east side of the hotel tower, sticking her head out the window and looking up. She could see a figure, falling from the roof.  
  
When Aidon released the pressure of the Force within him, he was fully aware that he was falling fast from the roof of the Jedi Temple. His first instinct was to search for the holocron in his jacket pocket; it was still there, thankfully. Next he reached into the jacket's outer pocket to produce a small remote transmitter. He pressed the button on its surface, activating one of the most oft-used mods made to the Skybird Swoop he had driven from HQ. From below he heard a high-pitched whine as the swoop's engine kicked in, lifting itself off the pavement and to its maximum height of 35 meters into the air. Using the remote Aidon swung the swoop around as best he could to an area below him, then readied his finger over the button to kill the engine. Even if he timed this right, he would have about three seconds to pull it off.  
As he fell he made minute changes to the bike's position, moving it closer or farther away depending on how he fell. Second by second the bike got bigger in his view, along with all the little features of the ground beneath it, including a black van that was parked near his target zone. When the time was right, he finger jammed down on the engine button, and the whine from the swoop ceased. Then he fell past it, and the bike began the speedy descent beside him. Aidon reached out for the bike, grabbing the seat and pulling himself atop it. He pumped down on the throttle to start the swoop, and nothing happened. He panicked, pumped his foot on the throttle again, this time awarded with a high-pitched screaming from the bike. The swoop's repulsor engines bounced it off the black van and back into the sky.  
He kicked the swoop's engine into high gear, accelerating to over 500 kilometers an hour, and racing away from the tower as fast as he could. From behind him he could hear the screeching of tires as the black van as it started toward him, and Aidon knew at once that it was the Inquisitor's partner. They always hunt in twos, he thought as he reached into his jacket to don his wraparounds. I should have seen that coming.  
Aidon dropped the bike to a mere meter off the ground, dodging left around a truck that was only going the speed limit. He knew that there was no way a clunky van could match a bike on the busy highways of Coruscant, and intended to take full advantage of that fact. He weaved expertly in and out of traffic, leaning left and right around various other vehicles amid the horns of angered drivers. Once far enough away, he circled back through the alleys and headed for HQ.  
  
Dolar saw Krinstaf's swoop dodge around a truck and disappear into traffic. She slammed her palms against the steering wheel as she slammed on the brakes, uttering a curse in her native dialect. "You lost him, didn't you?" she heard Kravyen's agitated voice over the comlink.  
She picked it up gingerly. "Yeah. Krinstaf's escaped."  
There was a slight menacing pause. "How could he have escaped, Dolar? I had him cornered. He bounced off your van."  
"I know, Kravyen," she snapped back. "He was on a bike, I couldn't chase him in this freakin'-huge van."  
Kravyen's voice grew in intensity. "I don't accept failures, Dolar. You know that. I don't accept them, Prime Jaglus doesn't accept them, and certainly the Emperor doesn't accept them."  
"Kravyen, there's nothin' I coulda-"  
Her voice was abruptly cut off by a piercing pain around her throat. Her airways were being constricted, and her breath came in short gasps and she struggled for air. Darkness grew at the edge of her vision, and she thought she heard Kravyen's voice over the intercom. "If you give me failure, you are useless."  
Dolar grasped for the invisible hand on her throat, trying futilely against his grip. "No!" she croaked, praying that he could hear her. "No, Kravyen, please!" It was getting harder and harder to breath, and she could feel herself getting light-headed. She was going to pass out soon if she didn't-  
The pressure around her larynx abruptly released, and she slumped over the steering wheel, eyes moist, gasping for breath. She then heard Kravyen from the comlink where she had dropped it on the floor of the van. "This is your final chance, Dolar. Do you understand me? This will be your final mistake, or you will die." 


End file.
